


Tired of Trying to Keep the Water Warm

by army_of_angels



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Braeden & Derek Hale Friendship, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Getting Together, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/army_of_angels/pseuds/army_of_angels
Summary: “You’re lucky you have ‘wolf healing.”He makes a vague noise of dissent because honestly he wants the scars, craves the imperfections recorded on his skin.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 1
Kudos: 67





	Tired of Trying to Keep the Water Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Self-Harm Warning!  
> National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> \------  
> I have nothing to do with Teen Wolf, Reese's, or Aquaphor.  
> Title from Melanie Martinez's song "Soap."  
> \-----
> 
> Stiles and Derek are already close friends in this and are comfortable being tactile with each other.  
> \-----

The sound of the loft door sliding open brings him back to the present. He still has his book open to the same page as when he picked it up maybe half an hour ago. He looks up just in time to see Braeden flash him a quick smile before the door is closed again.

He gets up automatically, not bothering to mark his spot in whatever book this is, and begins his routine.

He can’t remember if she told him where she was going – a quick trip to the store or a month-long job out of state. It doesn’t matter and she doesn’t seem to mind his indifference. It’s the best he’s had in a while, probably since Laura really.

He doesn’t have to pretend to be _alivewholeawake_ and yet benefits from another body in his space and in his bed. The fact that they do their own things takes away any pressure while still letting them both have somebody to hold at night.

Their friendship is probably not conventional but it really is just a friendship. They don’t really talk and, despite what the pack thinks, they don’t have sex, just chaste comfort kisses. It doesn’t match either of their images but maybe that’s why it works. They can let their walls down with each other until they find something better than fine.

Thunder brings him back out of his thoughts again. It’s so easy to get lost in them. As the water starts to rise around him, he sees that he’s already in the tub. The bathroom is dark, door locked, a bottle of wolfsbane-infused Scotch next to him, and that rumble is coming from the faucet.

He lets out a breath he’s been holding since the last opportunity he got to do this. Maybe yesterday, maybe a week ago… He takes a swig of liquor and pushes out a singular claw.

He doesn’t give himself time to think as he slices a long line across his thigh. He doesn’t hesitate as he repeats the action over and over again. God he wishes he could feel the true effects of the Scotch, more than that initial burn, wishes he could keep the scars on his skin, more than that initial sting.

He settles for the little beads of red that appear before his skin stitches itself back together. At least that remains. Mesmerized, he keeps going. Soon the water will be polluted with blood, just like everything else he touches.

He curses when his peaceful haze is broken by an insistent, irregular knocking on his front door. It’s classic Stiles which means that he’s back in town for a bit. Suddenly his spirits are significantly lifted and he jumps out of the tub to throw on some clothes.

They don’t really talk while Stiles is away at school but whenever there is a break Stiles has unfailingly spent most of that time at the loft. He doesn’t really know why but he’s also too afraid to ask and mess up whatever it is.

Sure enough he opens the door to nearly six feet of _brightstrengthbeautiful_. He’s juggling a greasy white bag, a drink tray, his pillow, and a backpack sliding off one shoulder but still donates a smile and a steady stream of words.

It’s maybe an hour later when the words come to a halt with a sudden hitched breath. He’s confused because Stiles is still recapping his semester and it’s too early for them to fall into that comfortable companionable silence that is inevitable.

He’s in the kitchen trying to find the bag of Reese’s Pieces Stiles left during his last visit when he realizes that the other heartbeat is no longer in the living room. He simultaneously realizes where it actually is and what he forgot to do in his earlier rush.

He takes a deep breath, both to ease the ache of his fist slamming down onto the counter and to rack his brain for an excuse. He hears a soft murmur of “Der…” and he’s not even sure if it’s a question but he goes.

He doesn’t know how to deal with this. He wasn’t this bad yet after Paige but after Kate… But he was so careful and Laura never caught on even though she barely left his side _and_ had Alpha senses.

But if somebody had to find out his secret than he’d want it to be Stiles. But if he could come up with a good lie, Stiles is the only one who wouldn’t believe him.

Stiles has his back to the door, to him, and he smells like too many emotions to pin down. He looks ahead to the pink water but then his eye catches on a few drops of blood on the lip of the tub and the unmistakable smear on his towel discarded on the floor.

Stiles voice comes out calm, even, “Were you injured?”

He tries his best to mimic the tone, “Yes.”

“By what?”

“Werewolf.”

“Threat?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

For a naïve second, he thinks that Stiles didn’t put two and two together. Or maybe he’s just hoping it’s one of those things they’ll never talk about.

But Stiles just takes a deep breath and exhales a tentative but sure, “Yourself?” and his silence is affirmation enough.  
“You’re lucky you have ‘wolf healing.”

He makes a vague noise of dissent because honestly he wants the scars, craves the imperfections recorded on his skin.

“I’m serious, dude, that way you don’t overheat during the summer and look like a freak at the beach in a flannel.” The words seem casual but Stiles shoulders are tensed.

The meaning sinks in just as Stiles is turning around with a small commiserating smile. His eyes look determined but he also wont hold his gaze. He reaches out to him.

They head back to the couch hand-in-hand. He whispers, “Thank you,” and Stiles squeezes his hand but doesn’t let go. They unpause the movie that they had put on for background noise and move on.

Later that night, they’re back in the bathroom, brushing their teeth side-by-side. Stiles spits and says, “You know, I still have some Aconitum Henryi leftover from when Scott got his armbands, if you’re interested.”

He’s never thought about getting another tattoo but now he can’t believe he’s never thought of it before. If Stiles does have that species of wolfsbane then he’ll just have to rub it in to the fresh wound instead of tracking down a supernatural artist with it already infused into the ink.

He lies awake, one hand running through Stiles’s hair and the other tracing a line across his thigh. Just a thin line, he thinks, eight inches maybe, one for each Hale lost in the fire then Laura, Erica, and Boyd.

A week later they go to a tattoo shop and get it done. It doesn’t mean he’s necessarily going to stop using his claws on himself, maybe one day, but for now it feels good to see he’s marred and not just feel it.

They go back to the loft to spend the rest of the day together before Stiles has to go home to make dinner and eat with his father. He goes to his bedroom to take off his pants and throw them in the hamper so that the tattoo can breathe.

He heads back to the living room but falters when he sees Stiles. The other man is lying across the couch as normal, one arm extended towards the TV, impatiently pressing the remote in hand. One bare arm. His red hoodie is lying innocuously across the back of the couch.

Not sure what to say, if anything, he continues to his spot, lifting Stiles’s head briefly before resting it back onto his lap. Stiles finally picks a show and puts the remote down but the rest of his body is unnaturally still and stiff.

Always a man of routine, he just takes Stiles’s hand in his like he normally would, tracing the lines on his palm and playing with those elegant fingers as they watch whatever episode they’re on. This time, though, his eyes can’t help but stray to the scarred flesh on display.

Stiles seems to relax slightly but nervously asks, “Is this okay?”

“Of course,” he says, because it is and he wants Stiles to be comfortable and completely himself with him. His chest hurts from the sight but he’s also honored that Stiles would let him see this. Neither of them are truly okay but at least they’re here together.

This time it’s Stiles who whispers, “Thank you.”

He drops a kiss to his anchor’s temple and thinks that maybe he can be Stiles’s anchor. He says as much a while later when Stiles has turned onto his stomach to be able to apply some Aquaphor to the tattoo. But Stiles just laughs and says he already is and has been for a while.

He’s astonished, to say the least. Stiles flips over again, onto his back, to stare up at him with those stunning yet soft eyes. “I don’t think you realize just how much you mean to me,” he’s told. He just shakes his head because apparently he doesn’t.

Stiles smiles and reaches his palm up to his cheek, lightly urging his face down. His breath catches but he goes with the motion - he may not deserve Stiles but he’s not going to deny him either. Right before their lips meet, Stiles asks, “Is this okay?”

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am not saying a tattoo or a romantic relationship is a solution to self-harm.  
> National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> \------
> 
> I only watched the first two seasons of TW back when they came out and then have read a shitton of fic ever since. Therefore, I have no clue how OOC this would be for Braeden and I don’t remember if they ever explained how Derek got his triskele with ‘wolf healing. So for the purpose of this lil fic: if you get a tattoo and then rub a specific species of wolfsbane (the name is a real species called the Spark variety hehe) then it will stay and heal as a normal tattoo would.


End file.
